Power & Sex, and... 75
“Loyalty! Lieutenant Park Maru!”
“Blockhead, you're finally here. And who's this crew?”
As we followed the company commander—who was acting as my aide—through the door, the division commander rose from his seat to greet us. He was still calling me blockhead.
“Yes, sir. These are the folks who've been looking out for me. This is Eun-mi, CEO of the new entertainment agency Ara Entertainment. Over here is the manager team leader, and this young lady is Suji, the idol singer all the kids are crazy about these days. And this one's Jeong-ah, handling my online promotions.”
“This little miss is the singer Suji?”
“Yes, sir. Don't you watch TV, Division Commander?”
“You think I've got time to watch TV like you blockheads? I've already got one headache like you causing me grief.”
“Aw, come on! That was ages ago—why keep calling me blockhead? I don't pull that crap anymore.”
“A leaky pot at home won't stop leaking outside, will it? So what's this about?”
“Hook us up for a show, sir.”
“What're you on about?”
“Ara Entertainment wants to put on a comfort performance for your troops.”
“We're broke.”
“It's free, sir.”
“For real?”
“Yes, sir!”
“If you come back later asking for cash, you're dead!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Alright then, Suji, mind signing a few? My boy's a big fan.”
“You knew about me, sir?”
“Kid, if you don't know Suji these days, you're a spy. The troops are begging every day to play her music video at wish-granting time.”
The comfort performance was settled just like that. All that was left was the paperwork, which the manager team leader would handle. Suji happily signed a few autographs at the division commander's request, and he took them with a grin from ear to ear.
A bit later, the company commander and manager team leader returned after sorting the formalities. Spotting Suji's autograph on the table, the company commander glanced at the division commander and sheepishly asked for one too. Suji, of course, flashed a smile and signed away.
“Division Commander, no dinner for us?”
“With all the troops out there? Forget eating here—let's head out.”
I brought up dinner, and the division commander stood. Fair enough; it was about time I treated him. I'd put him through enough hell during my service with my screw-ups. But Suji piped up.
“Division Commander, I wanna try the mess hall food.”
The division commander looked baffled, and the company commander wore a what kind of girl is this? expression.
“Suji, if we go to a restaurant, the troops'll raise hell. You sure you can eat in that chaos?”
“I'm coming for a show anyway—might as well get used to the vibe early. No singer hates her fans in uniform.”
“Pro's a pro, alright. Fine, mess hall it is.”
Leaving the division commander's office, we headed to the entrance, where it looked like every soldier in headquarters had gathered—the courtyard was packed. Spotting Suji, they started chanting “Suji! Suji!”
As we made for the mess hall, the troops swarmed after us. We grabbed seats, and they scrambled for spots next to her. When we got up for food, they surged to the serving line too. Thanks to Suji, we wolfed down dinner without knowing if it went in our mouths or noses. Afterward, with a rousing send-off from the division commander and troops, we left the base.
“Team leader, how'd the performance scheduling go?”
Back in the car, Eun-mi asked the manager about the date. He said it was set for next month, the 12th, 2 to 3 p.m.—one hour.
“Daytime? Lights won't work well then.”
“Night shows aren't possible due to base rules.”
“Can't we change the date?”
Eun-mi wanted nighttime for the stage effects, but in a forward unit facing North Korea just kilometers away across the DMZ, a night show was a pipe dream. Anyway, Eun-mi and the team leader hashed out details for the upcoming performance while I sank into the seat and dozed off.
I was tired, sure, but mostly because with the team leader clueless about our relationships, chatting freely with Eun-mi, Jeong-ah, or Suji felt awkward.
“Assemblyman, Sin Hye's here.”
Sin Hye had gotten her father admitted. I greeted her and called in Im Bi-seo. He reported that he'd arranged her dad's admission to S Medical Center in Ilwon-dong and briefed me on progress.
Right now, S Medical Center had the highest medical costs in the country. But for Sin Hye—no relatives or siblings—she couldn't nurse her dad 24/7. Worse, the liver transplant meant donating part of her own liver, so both needed post-op care with no family around.
That's why they picked S Medical Center: pricey, but self-sufficient—no family fuss needed. Plus, Professor Lee Seok-gu, head of the organ transplant center, had pioneered living-donor liver transplants in Korea with high success rates, giving Sin Hye peace of mind.
“Everything set?”
“Yes, Assemblyman. I came to say goodbye before tests—I might not get another chance.”
“I'll tell Im Bi-seo to handle things. Any issues, go to him.”
“Thank you. I'll repay this debt.”
Sin Hye stood, bowing deeply. Truth be told, I shouldn't take the thanks—Jeong-ah and Im Bi-seo would handle the real work. After hearing details on her and her dad's condition, I took her out for lunch.
“Im Bi-seo, what're you doing?”
“Sir?”
“Didn't I say you're in charge of Sin Hye?”
“Yes! Yes, sir!”
He finally got it—that I meant join us for lunch—and hurried to follow.
“Come on, you cheapskate plotting to scam us into mung bean pancakes again.”
No one bit at my teasing. Damn workaholics...
We went for meat. Scans and surgery decisions weren't the end—living-donor liver transplants are major ops for two lives. Pre-op, patients need peak condition, fortified strength for at least two weeks. I wasn't trekking to Ilsan to spoon-feed her dad, but I could at least fuel her up.
Back at the office post-lunch, I called Im Bi-seo in and handed him my card.
“Sorry, but focus on caring for her and her dad for now. Transplants need stamina—meet their doctor, learn diets, make sure they stick to it.”
“Yes, sir.”
I felt bad piling this on a friend here to learn politics, but handling complaints like this is politics. They were Korean citizens, election district or not. I sent them off; nothing much at the Members' Office Building, so I headed to campaign HQ.
“Assemblyman, welcome!”
The guy at the door stood to greet me—Han Seong-su's dispatch, I recalled. His cue had everyone rising.
Probably thanks to the Jeong Sang-won supreme council incident.
“You've all worked hard. No need to stop and stand—ask Kim Sil-jang or Heo Team Leader; even yelling 'lunch!' gets no response here.”
“Still, Assemblyman...”
“Nah. Just no more of that rude crap like last time, keep basic manners—that's plenty.”
Having staff drop everything for greetings is inefficient. I know that, so I let our crew ignore me—heads glued to monitors, a curt “Have a good one,” back to work.
But my petty ass dragged up that Jeong aide again. Gotta remind 'em not to get cocky. Jeong Sang-won was probably agonizing over firing him right now. If he'd egged it on, even worse.
“Assemblyman, when'd you get here?”
Sipping Jeong-ah's coffee, Kim Sil-jang returned from errands.
“Here to check if you're slacking, Chief.”
“By the way, a few senior assemblymen stopped by this morning.”
“No kickoff yet—what gives? Who?”
Kim Sil-jang named heavyweights. Knowing about the campaign HQ, they weren't running—just lining up ties. Good sign.